Flynn
I should go slowly.
I should be careful. Watch for signs of discomfort.
I know all these things, but they go out the window.
All I care about is getting Nadia out of her goddamn clothes and into my bed. I strip her on the way from my front door to the bedroom, devouring her mouth as I walk her backward. She strips me back, yanking up my shirt, and unbuckling my belt.
I manage to turn on a lamp in my bedroom. I cleaned up before our date, so the place is presentable.
Her kisses are demanding and greedywhat I wanted from her back at Rue’s.
It was weird how reverse-jealous I got when she wasn’t jealous over me. I’m so used to girls freaking over their competition. Getting territorial and staking their claim. I think it hurt my manly pride when Nadia didn’t stake a claim.
Of course, she wouldn’t. We are friends with benefits.
But I was surprised how badly I wanted her to. How offended I was by the notion that she wanted to share me.
I don’t want to share her.
I seriously think I’d throat punch any guy who got near her, including Maykl, the huge bratva door guy she came to my show with that one time.
I push her up against the wall in my room and flick open the front clasp on her black bra. “I’ve been fucking my fist thinking about these tits for a week now,” I groan when they spring free. “These are peaches,” I assert.
Mental noteI need to buy her peaches so she knows what the hell I’m talking about.
I cup her breast and thumb over her nipple while my other hand tangles in her hair, holding her head still for more hot kisses. I love her butterscotch scent, the scratch of her fingernails on the back of my neck.
I can’t think of the last time I’ve been this impassioned for a woman. I’ve had a lot of drunk sex that feels sort of desperate, but this is different. This is drunk-on-pheromones passion. I need moreno, allof Nadia, or I will die.
She grinds down on my knee between her legs.
I shove a hand into her panties, sucking on the place behind her jaw as I gently part her flesh. She’s wet and slick, and she jolts when I touch her clit.
I drop to my knees, yanking her pants and panties off as I go. Without waiting, as if my life depended on making this girl come in the next twenty seconds, I lift one of her knees and suck a spot on her inner thigh then fill my mouth with her juicy pussy. There’s no finesse. No delicate tracing with my tongue. I suck, lick and nip every inch of her feminine folds. I penetrate her with my tongue, penetrate her with two fingers. With her leg hooked over my shoulder, I give her every ounce of passion I know, all designed to make her feel good.
“Flynn…Flynn.” She yanks off my knit cap and tears at my hair, pressing my face against her for more.
I lash her with my tongue as I locate her g-spot with my two fingers, finding the place where the tissue stiffens and raises under my fingers. I pump in and out, hitting it every time, while I lap and flick and suck at her clit.
She clenches around my fingers with a shriek.
Without giving her time to recover, I rise up and pick her up to straddle my waist, carrying her to the bed.
“I want you to come all over my dick this time. Are you going to do that for me?” I ask, toeing off my shoes and shoving my pants off.
“Da. Yes. I will,” she promises, her hands traveling over my shoulders and down my biceps.
Wanting her to feel in control, I roll the condom over my dick as I lie down. “Climb on, Peaches.”
Nadia
I’m doing this. I’m totally in the moment. Totally with Flynn, who is carrying me away with his unbridled passion.
Cigar guy isn’t here in the room. He’s not between us.
I straddle Flynn’s waist and position my entrance over his cock. He holds the base steady for me as I rise up and slowly lower over him. I love that he put me in charge. I get to control this. I’m on top. I have space. I can breathe. I can pace things the way I need them to be paced.
I definitely feel safe.
More than thatI feel alive. Lit up. Tingling with excitement.
Flynn’s groan echoes off the walls when I take him inside me. “You’re killing me, Peaches. You feel so good.”
My hands fall to his sturdy shoulders, my hair falls across my face. I catch my lip between my teeth as I ride him. He grips my ass to help, pulling me on and off, meeting my rhythm with upward thrusts of his own.
It feels so good. I had no idea how good this could feel. I cry out and throw my head back, my breasts bouncing as I take his cock deeper.
“That’s it, Nadia. Take what you need from me.”
My pussy gushes lubrication. My nails score Flynn’s skin as I ride him faster, like we’re in a race to the finish line. Breath rasping, teeth clenched, a wild determination fuels my movements.
“Da…Da,” I cry, forgetting which language to speak.
“Take it, Nadia,” Flynn encourages, giving me all the power. Making this all about my pleasure. My enjoyment. “Use me to get where you need to go.”
“I will,” I pant, “I will! Gospodi, yes!”
My movements grow erratic, and I babble in Russian then scream. My internal muscles squeeze and pulse around his dick.
He thrusts up into me, seeking his own pleasure now that I’ve found mine. “Yes, Nadia. Fuck, yeah.” Lights dance before my eyes when he comes. The room gets hot. It spins a little.
And when my vision clears, my face breaks into the biggest smile possible.
I’m totally triumphant.
I must be glowing.
Flynn pulls me down for a kiss, and that’s when I know: I couldn’t have screwed this up more.
Because I don’t want Flynn as a friend.
Not at all.
I want everything from him.
Heart. Body. Soul.
I’m flying like one of those kites people carry along the shore of Lake Michigan. Buoyant. Aloft. Flapping and fluttering in the wind.
I’m a new woman. Capable of being intimate with a man. Capable of orgasmingtwice!
I feel like I just won a race. Or the lottery. Like I completed some spectacular feat that I never thought could happen for me.
I straddle Flynn’s hips and smile down at him. “I did it.”
He smiles back. “You did. We did. You’re beautiful.”
He makes me feel beautiful. More importantly, I don’t feel frightened over him finding me beautiful. I don’t want to disengage from my body.
“I’m so happy.” It’s an understatement. I’m downright ecstatic.
Flynn holds my hips and undulates his beneath me a few times, with satisfying, unambitious thrusts.
I climb off him, pull on my panties, and flit about his room on shaking legs.
I just had sex. I just orgasmed. I swear to God, I didn’t even know if it would ever be possible to feel sexual pleasure again, but I did it!
I investigate everything in his room, wanting to absorb all that is Flynn. Wanting to somehow hang onto and keep this sense of happiness that’s overcome me.
It’s a guy room. An acoustic guitar stands in the corner. A blown glass pipe for smoking weed is on the dresser, along with a library card and a Starbucks gift card.
I open his closet and investigate his clothing.
“Are you going to style me?” He rolls his lanky form off the bed and disposes of the condom.
“Will you let me?”
His chuckle is warm and rusty. It ignites tiny explosions under my ribs. “Sure. Yeah. Of course.”
So easy.
Everything with Flynn is always so easy. There’s no pressure. There’s no agenda.
Even when things got heated during sex, he was so damn present with me. His passion carried me along. Or ignited mine.
I examine the clothes in his closet. Mostly button-down shirtsnot the expensive crisp ones that Ravil or Maxim wear, but worn flannels and just a couple dress shirts. He has a few pairs of dress slacks. I open his dresser drawers and peek inside. They are packed with more comfortable shirts and pullovers, jeans and khakis.
Flynn pulls a pair of boxer briefs on and picks up the guitar, folding his long body into a cross-legged position on the bed. He starts to play. The lamplight falls across his face, lighting his boyish good looks. This could be a music videoFlynn shirtless and happy, hanging out playing music in the bed where he just made love.
In fact…
“Hang on.” I pull a pair of flannel pajama pants out of his dresser. “Put these on.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t ask me why. He doesn’t protest. He just climbs off the bed to put on the pants. “Now what?”
I turn on another lamp. “Go back to the bed and play.”
He leans over and brushes his lips across the bridge of my nose. “I like you bossy.”
I laugh. “I’m not bossy. I just have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“You just play the guitar, like you were.”
I find his phone where he dropped it with his keys and open up the Tiktok app. Flynn has a profile there. I know because I follow him. He doesn’t post that oftenusually just clips from their live showsbut he has a decent following because of Skate 32’s videos and the Storyteller’s growing local fanbase.
I take a seat in the armchair by the window and go live.
“What are you doing?” His eyes crinkle when he smiles at me as his fingers dance over the strings. The guy can play anything without ever making it seem hard.
“I’m live streaming the megastar Flynn Taylor from his bedroom.”
He sends me a lazy grin. “Yeah?”
“Mmm hmm. I think your fans would love to see you like this.”
He looks beautiful. Like a rock godshirtless with an armband tattoo around his sculpted biceps. Hair mussed. Totally into his music.
He plucks a tune I don’t recognize.
“What’s that?”
“It’s how I feel with you.” His eyes crinkle again and flutters start up in my stomach.
The part that gets mebeyond just how incredibly sexy he looks right now in the lamplightis that the song isn’t sad. The tune that he’s playing for me is light and easy. Full of possibilities.
“That’s how I feel with you,” I counter.
He flashes another grin and starts humming softly, swaying his shoulders a bit. I’m ready to come again just watching him. Knowing the music is about me.
His phone shows a DM come through from Cadence. I see you on Tiktok! Where are you tonight? Can I come over?
I don’t mean tooh, who am I kidding? I totally mean toopen up their chat window. He’s received seven messages from her but hasn’t responded to a single one. No reason for me to feel threatened. I’m the one in his bedroom.
I go back to watching the Tiktok screen. We already have 106 viewers, and the comments are coming in.
Who is filming?
Who’s the girl?
I love you Flynn!
They scroll up the screen.
I’m not jealous. Not this time. Not when Flynn just gave me everything. Maybe later, I will be when I contemplate how easily unattached Flynn always seems. When I remember that I don’t get to keep him. That he could be with another girl tomorrow night. But right now, I feel honored to be the girl in his bedroom. Honored enough to want to share him with the world. Help him get famous.
Because Flynn definitely deserves to have it all. He has crazy talent and remains so humble. So friendly and go-lucky. Flynn doesn’t feel the need to perform, even though he knows I’m streaming him. He plays aroundtrying out different tunes, strumming chords, going back to the first melody.
Everyone watching is getting to see a musician’s real process, and it’s absolutely beautiful.
The number of viewers grows to 356. Then 482. Then 789.
Maybe they aren’t huge numbers compared to some Tiktok stars, but I bet if Flynn did this regularly, he’d get a huge following.
“Is this the way you write your songs?” I ask.
He flashes that pirate smile at me. “Yeah, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve composed anything.”
“Is it hard?”
He gives a chuckle. “It’s really easy. Or else it’s super hard. Seems like the harder you try, the harder it is. If you don’t really care whether you write a song or not, that’s when music just pours out of you.”
“Mmm. You need to be in the zone,” I say.
“Yeah, I guess.” Another panty-melting smile.
I draw my feet up on the armchair and prop the phone on one knee.
Who is the Russian? someone asks, hearing my accent.
Is that your girlfriend? Jelly! another posts.
I hate her. Get out of Flynn’s room, slut.
I love the new song.
I ignore the nasty remarks from his fangirls. I expected them. I’ve already seen how competitive they get at his shows. Discouraging them would be wrong, even if their vitriol makes my stomach churn. It’s girls like this who will ultimately get the Storytellers noticed. Maybe signed to a major label.
Flynn plays a while longer then stops and sets the guitar beside him. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” I say. I’m still filming. Maybe I’m crazy, but I think every single thing Flynn does ought to be absorbed by his fans. Adored the way I adore him.
He walks toward me, a beautiful, glorious lion. Lanky and lean, but still muscled with a light dusting of golden hair on his chest. He leans down and kisses me.
I pan up from his abs to his face before I end the video. He had 10, 472 views.
“Is this my new style? Pajama pants?” he teases.
“For this particular moment, yes. It’s a very good look for you.”
“You didn’t want me in my underwear?”
“That might get you banned. Also, I don’t want everyone” I stop because I sound territorial. Like his middle school girlfriend. I don’t want to do that.
He grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. His smirk makes my nipples harden. Or maybe it’s just his nearness. “You don’t want everyone to see me in my underwear?”
My face grows warm. “No, it’s all right. I know we’re not”
“Shut up, Nadia.” He grasps the back of my head and kisses me, hard. It’s more aggressive than usual, but I like it.
Scratch thatI love it.
I needed Flynn to be easy-going and non-threatening before. Now I need the passion. I want to know it’s me he wants. That I turn him on. That I’m not replaceable.
Except I am replaceable, aren’t I? I set this whole thing up that way.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to see you in just your underwear, either.” He traces the tip of his finger along the waistband of my panties, making my tummy shiver at his touch.
He kisses me again, this time gripping a handful of my ass and squeezing. My erect nipples rub against his ribs, and moisture slicks my lady parts again.
“How badly do you want to see the burlesque show?” Flynn asks between kisses. “Because I could skip dinner and just eat you again.”
It sounds heavenly, but I want both. I gently push him away, and he immediately backs offever respectful. “I want to go,” I tell him.
“Then we’ll go,” he says easily.
“I haven’t been out in so long, and you make it all feel possible. Not just possible-fun.”
“It will be fun.” He stoops to pick up my pants and tosses them my way.
“Plus, I want the dancers to take me seriously. I already have ideas for their costumes.”
“Trust methey will be overjoyed to have your help. Artists jump at the chance to get something for free. We’re always starving, you know.” He winks at me.
“Are you?” I stop, shocked. I didn’t know.
“No, no, no. It’s cool. We’re starting to make money, actually, which I never expected.”
“But not a lot.” I suddenly want to help him, too. I have that money from Kat’s dad. Maybe I could put it to good use with him and the band.
“The point was never to make money.” There’s a line between Flynn’s brows I don’t like seeing.
“But wouldn’t it be great if you did?” I challenge. Something about his self-deprecation that feels wrong here.
He shrugs. “I don’t want to chase fame.” He holds my jacket out for me, like a gentleman. I didn’t even know boys our age knew how to do that. I try to resist the yearning kicking up inside me. The desire to have Flynn for keeps. For always.
It’s not going to happen, and I shouldn’t start wanting it now. Instead I press him on the fame issue. “Why not?”
He puts his jacket on, picks up his phone and keys and leads me out of the apartment. “My dad was always waiting to get discovered, and then one day, he just became kind of bitter, you know? I never wanted to be like that. The Storytellers are for fun. Because I can’t live without music. And it is my livelihood, too, but…”
I peer up at him as we go down the stairs. “You can’t avoid dreams just because you’re afraid they won’t come true,” I tell him. I see his customary smile fade, and I’m sorry I’m the one who dimmed his light. “Sorry,” I say when he doesn’t answer.
“No, it’s cool. I see what you mean. I’m just not sure I want to go that route.”
“The having dreams route?”
“Yeah.”
“What if you’re pushing away success right now just because you’re afraid of it?” I sound like some kind of life coachwhich isn’t me, but it just seems too clear that’s what he’s doing. I’ve been working with a therapist for months nowI guess she’s starting to rub off on me.
Flynn stops on the sidewalk outside and loops an arm behind my back. He draws me up against him. Our breaths mingle in the cold air. “You make me want to believe,” he murmurs and kisses me.
“I believe anything’s possible when I’m with you,” I whisper back.